The Ice Sorceress Awakens
by Owl Writer
Summary: Power is often feared. Elsa, thrust into the 21st century, must learn to control her abilities or be treated as a threat to global security. A Frozen/Avengers crossover. No pairings.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Apologies in advance. This idea occurred to me a few days ago and I had to write it down. I believe this will be the first (and for a while, possibly the only) Frozen/Avengers crossover.

**Spoilers**: For both universes, obviously.

**Prologue**

Standing atop the icy fjord, the winds die completely. Every snowflake hangs in the air in a beautiful mockery of her sorrow. Her legs fail her; she collapses to her knees in her grief. _Anna is dead_.

Hans is speaking, condemning her to death, but she pays him no attention. She knows that she is going to die - she welcomes it, that she might see her sister again. _Anna is dead_.

Hans has stopped speaking. An icy tear slides down her cheek. Her greatest fear has come true; she is responsible for the death of the only person who matters to her in the world, Anna. A metallic screech, a sword being freed from its sheath, pierces the brief silence, and she knows her time has come. A thousand thoughts bubble to the surface as regrets and sorrows flood her mind. _Anna... Anna is dead_.

Without warning she hears a cry that can only be her sister. Time seems to stop but she cannot react - her sister is moving to shield her from the falling blade. Her sister now stands before her, between her and her executioner, rapidly solidifying into ice. _Anna is alive?!_

A sharp clang of metal is heard as the blade meets ice. Brittle, fragile ice snaps, cracks, shatters; pieces of what were her sister fall all around her. She feels a single shard of ice - _Anna_ - fall into her left hand. _Anna - sweet, innocent Anna. Anna is dead._

_Anna is DEAD_.

Gripping the shard of ice, once her sister, in her hand she stands as the wind picks up. Icy sheets rise and fall with her breathing. Flurries of snow give way to a blizzard - she feels her hair whipping at her face as she stands, her eyes boring down on the man whose blade shattered her sister. A cold rage grips her as the swirling storm continues to build. A single refrain repeats in her mind. _Anna is dead_.

* * *

Arendelle was lost that day, buried in the Summer Snowstorm. Legends would tell that it was the young Queen herself who cursed the kingdom to an icy grave. The Glacier of Arendelle, the land where Arendelle once sat, was blanketed with permanent winter.

A kingdom engulfed in the fury of the Snow Queen.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: **There is one line of Norwegian. Apologies if I butchered it - the Internet is not a foolproof translator.

**A/N: Reposted **with a few edits for clarity

**Chapter 1**

"All personnel: the evacuation order has been confirmed. Proceed to your designated vehicles for off-site conveyance. This is not a drill."

A tremor shook the compound. Dozens of workers scurried about, loading equipment into trucks and hurriedly making preparations to flee.

"Martinez, get moving!" A woman standing on the loading dock shouted at one of the trucks. "You're nearly full and we need the loading dock clear for the next truck."

"Can't yet, ma'am. There's a problem with the battery backup - if we move now, who knows what this thing will do." Martinez replied, pushing his glasses higher onto his nose with greasy fingers. His wiped his hands on his stained jacket before continuing to fumble with wires at the base of a large metal capsule.

"Move. NOW. We just got word that we have to load every Phase Two device in addition to all of the volatile pieces like yours. Finish your hookup en route."

Martinez unplugged a pair of cables and tossed them to the loading dock. Hammering his hand on the side of the truck, he growled and shouted to the driver, "Let's go Smith - and hit the radio, would you?" He grabbed the pull on the end of the sliding truck door and slammed it shut as the truck started to move. Darkness surrounded him, until he a small work light on the floor is illuminated.

The truck rolled out from the dock and into the tunnel leaving the facility. Martinez sat on the metal floor, bracing his feet against the capsule and his back against the wall of the truck as they took the corner to leave the loading area. An ominous blinking red light indicating battery failure stared at him from the base of the metal capsule.

"They didn't tell me what you were. Figures, huh?" The radio in the cab of the truck started playing. Country music, from the sounds of things, although it was difficult to hear over the rattling of the truck and the tires on the road.

"You can't be too dangerous, right?" Martinez tapped lightly on the side of the capsule. "You're only… big enough to be a nuclear warhead, marked as highly volatile, and stored in a top secret S.H.I.E.L.D. lab devoted to obscure energy research." He swallowed, while glancing down at the red light again. "Oh, and with a failing backup battery."

He dug through the duffel bag of cables that sat beside him. "Well, if all else fails, we can pull over and wire you up to the truck battery, which ought to last a little while until we can get help."

A few minutes passed as Martinez arranged a few items from the duffel bag on the floor around him and unscrewed the outer casing on the plate at the base of the capsule. The sound of a distant explosion interrupted his work. He rifled through the same duffel bag for an earpiece and flicked the switch, "Smith - what the hell was that?" The music on the radio was silenced.

A crackling voice responded, "Presumably the cause for the evacuation. Hope everyone got out okay. It's not looking pretty back there."

"I hope so, too. Hey, how far to the rendezvous?"

"No rendezvous yet, Lou. Only word so far is to get as far away as possible and await pickup. That, and something about a Code 619. A compromised agent, right? Think the explosion was an inside job?

"No idea." Martinez continued to loosen screws, desperately not thinking about what might happen if the power failed completely. "What's the plan, then? Drive until they tell us to stop?"

"If we haven't heard anything by dawn, we head to the Stanley base, but it's not cleared or designed for highly volatile Project Pegasus stuff. How's the battery coming?"

"Not well." Prying open the case of the battery pack attached to the capsule, Martinez sighed. "I need to dig out a spare - one of the cells ruptured."

"Have fun with that. We picked up an escort, by the way - so if you need a hand with something we can pull over and see what we can do."

A muffled click and the faint sound of the radio resumed. Martinez hummed along tunelessly as a new song started, digging through a stack of boxes marked Electrical Miscellany. His back to the capsule, he did not notice the falling temperature or the frost building up on the outside of the metal capsule. The truck suddenly swerved; the box was thrown to the floor, and it's contents scattered.

"What the hell, Smith? Falling asleep at the wheel?"

"Nah - can't see it very well, but it feels like we're hydroplaning on something. It hasn't rained, though, and we're pretty damn heavy right now - not sure what just.." The truck swerved again. More boxes shifted from the sudden movement.

"Not funny, Smith. Not sure what we're hauling but highly volatile is pretty damn explicit."

"Not a joke. I swear it's like the wheels are slipping on something. If it wasn't April I'd swear that was a patch of ice."

"Ice? Smith what in the name of…" Martinez trailed off; his breath was visible. He belatedly noticed how cold the air had grown around him. He slowly turned back to the capsule, which was visibly straining at its rivets.

The truck went into a prolonged skid and Martinez was thrown to the floor. He glanced back sharply at the capsule as the first rivet pops, throwing his arms over his head and neck as the capsule bursts, sending shrapnel and shards of ice in every direction.

* * *

The two agents in the escort car pulled over at the first signs of ice, and could only watch on helplessly as the truck lost control. The back of the truck violently exploded outwards, and the truck, already sideways from the prolonged skid, rolled over twice before lurching to a stop on its side. A man and a woman, dressed in S.H.I.E.L.D. uniforms, disembarked from the escort car and rushed to the downed vehicle.

"Smith!" The man called, spotting him in the cab of the truck.

The woman was already pulling out a radio, "Greg, I'm calling it in; go check on Smith and Martinez." A radio switch flicked. "This is Agent Melanie Leall, escorting truck Sierra Charlie One Seven Four. There's been an accident and Smith is down. Martinez's whereabouts unknown. Secure cargo is classed as highly volatile. Requesting immediate backup. Over."

A few seconds of white noise, and then a hurried response sounded. "It may be a few, Leall. We'll send the closest team over ASAP, but we're dealing with worst case scenario here - Fury's chopper is down and chatter is that the Tesseract is gone. Hold down the fort until backup arrives. Over."

She huffed and tossed the radio back in the car before sprinting towards the wrecked truck. She met the other agent as he stepped away from the cab.

"Greg - any sign of Martinez?"

"No. Smith is alive, but he might have a broken bone or three. I'm not an EMT, though - I don't want to move him unless we have to. Martinez must have been in the back."

They approached the wreckage that is the back of the truck with some trepidation. Melanie shivered, her eyes scanning the patches of ice on the ground. "Any idea what the cargo was?"

Greg shook his head. "Not specifically. Highly volatile. High energy output. And I'm assuming kept in some sort of deep freeze from all this ice."

Rounding the corner, they saw Martinez on the ground, bits of metal and ice embedded into his arms and legs, surrounded by a pool of icy blood. A young woman stood over him, examining his injuries. Clad in an ethereal blue dress and cape, with long blond hair woven into a braid, she showed no visible injuries from the crash or explosion. She grasped a shard of ice in her left hand.

Melanie was the first to draw her sidearm. "Step away from Martinez and put your hands where I can see them."

Obviously surprised, the young woman spun, flinging ice in their direction. Crystalline shards erupted from the ground near the agents. Shocked, the agents stepped back, but kept their eyes and guns fixed on the blonde. Her body trembled; her eyes darted in every direction, taking in the wreckage of the truck and the appearance of the two agents.

Melanie took a single step forward, before repeating her command, "I said step away from Martinez."

Her eyes, unsteady and filled with confusion, fixed on the agent. She stared at her fearfully before uttering, in a heavy accent, "English? S_nakker de norsk?_"

Melanie nodded slightly, unblinkingly focused on the girl. She lowered her pistol and raised a hand in a sign of non-violence. "You speak English?"

The girl took a few steadying breaths before responding slowly. "Some. I learned, but not as well as other languages. Am… am I in Hell?"

Melanie arched an eyebrow. "It certainly feels like it some days. Would you like to take a walk?" She nudged Greg, nodding toward Martinez.

Holstering her gun, she whispered to Greg, "I'll keep her out of the way for a few minutes - hopefully, at least in time for backup to arrive. Make sure Martinez is okay, and remind me to pass it up the chain that _highly volatile_ is not an adequate description for an imprisoned super human."

"Accurate, maybe, but not adequate. Got it. Be careful Mel."

"Looks like she's scared and confused, Greg - I'm just going to try talking to her."

* * *

She walked with the strange woman for a few steps into the darkness of the night. Confusion, anger, and fear warred in her mind as she wondered what sort of afterlife she had been condemned to. The woman walking with her was oddly dressed, in men's trousers no less, and not what she was expecting in either angel or devil.

For a few steps, they were both silent. Ice spread out from her feet with every step, covering the sand and dirt with frost. Glancing at her oddly dressed companion, in a trembling voice, she asked, "If this is not Hell, where is my sister?" _Am I denied to see her even in this afterlife?_

The other woman pursed her lips before answering, "I'm probably not the best person to talk to - we have procedures for this sort of thing."

The shard of ice that she had forgotten she was carrying suddenly felt heavy in her left hand. A shard of _Anna._ "I'm not dead, am I?" _Where am I?_

The other woman's eyes glanced at the piece of ice in her hand and she clutched it tightly to her chest, not willing to let go of this last piece. The wind started to pick up as her mind raced. _Anna - what happened? Where am I and why did I not join you in oblivion?_

The other woman shivered at the icy wind. "No, you're not dead. I am getting cold, though, so if you could dial it back a bit?"

She took a deep breath, her mantra of control repeating in her mind. _Don't feel._ The stoic calm of the other woman and the lack of fear in the her eyes helped. _Don't feel._ The wind slowed slightly. _Don't feel._ Her fears slightly abated, confusion was now predominate. _She clearly knows, and she isn't trying to burn me at the stake yet, so that's something. Who is this woman? Where am I?_ "What manner of thing is _that_?"

Following her eyes, the other woman muttered something nonsensical, sounding like "extraterrestrial or predates automobiles." _An English idiom, perhaps?_

"It's… a sort of carriage? A mode of transportation?"

Her confusion did not lessen. _What manner of beast pulls it?_

"Hey," the other spoke, trying to recapture her attention, "Don't worry about that thing for now. I'll answer your questions as best as I can, but can you answer a few of mine?"

The other woman's voice was overly sweet. _She's not the first to walk on eggshells near me. Control. Don't feel. Don't feel._ She shut her eyes before nodding shakily.

"Let's start with something simple - can you tell me your name?"

She opened her eyes to meet the other woman's. _Queen Elsa, the first of her name, protector and sovereign of Arendelle. Snow Queen. Ice Sorceress._ "Elsa. What is yours?"

"Melanie. Nice to meet you Elsa. Do you have a last name."

_The royals of Arendelle do not have a family name. Of Arendelle, maybe?_ Elsa shook her head.

"Can you tell me where you're from?"

Her response was immediate. "Arendelle." _Arendelle. Anna._ Her breath quickened again and bits of snow started to fall.

Melanie took a step closer. "Elsa, try to stay calm. If this is difficult for you, we can just chat about something else." Another step closer, and a more lighthearted tone. "I love your dress."

_I'm dangerous. Please don't step closer. I could run, but to where? Where am I?_ With a pained cry, she warned, "Just stay away."

Melanie's retreat was quick, taking three steps away from the girl. "Okay - I'm not trying to put any kind of pressure on you. I just want to know more about who you are and where you're from so that I can help you. I see a lot of pain in your eyes, Elsa, too much for someone so young. Power is so often misunderstood. I only want to help."

_Don't feel._ Deep breath. _Don't feel._ The knot in her chest loosened a bit. _Don't feel._ "Where am I? How did I get here?"

Melanie's hesitation was too obvious. _She does not want to tell me. What am I missing?_

After a moment, Melanie answered, "Before I can give a useful answer to that, I may need to know more about… your circumstances. What's the last thing you remember, Elsa?"

_Snow. Death. Anna._ Like a bursting dam, a torrent of emotion washed over her. Her expression hardened like the ice at her feet. The wind whipped at her cape and the temperature plummeted. Her jaw tightened as she ground out, "I remember welcoming death. I have answered your questions, _Melanie._ Answer mine. Where am I and what do you want of me?"

Melanie's held a hand up to shield her eyes from the sting of the building flurry, shivering from the cold. Snow was accumulating around them. "Elsa, I need you to calm down."

A rumbling noise to her left broke through the sound of the storm. Another of the metal carriages she had seen earlier approached, untethered from any animal. Four men scrambled from the carriage and took up positions around it, leveling what could only be weapons of some kind at her.

Ignoring them completely, Elsa could only focus on the shard of ice in her left hand. The vision of Anna shattering, so recently seared into her mind, consumed her. The small snow storm grew thick enough to obstruct her vision, and the wind began to howl in her ears.

"Elsa, please calm down. I need you to reign this in so that I can help you."

If anything, the wind began to move faster. "Just… just stay away from me!" She ran a few steps from Melanie, only to be cut off by one of the new arrivals.

"I said stay back!" A wave of her hands and a gust of wind knocked the man from his feet.

"Elsa we aren't going to hurt you. Please calm down and let us help." Melanie had followed her, but the building snow was making it difficult for anyone to move quickly.

"Leave me alone!" With a wave of her hands, she crafted six figures of ice, bearing ice-wrought swords and shields. The ice warriors advanced on Melanie and the others, intent on defending their creator. Melanie futilely reached for the weapon on her hip, iced to her belt. She visibly struggled to remain standing through the building storm.

A loud voice sounded over the wind, "Stop what you are doing and step away from Agent Leall. No one needs to die today." Melanie raised her arms to block a blow from the first ice warrior.

_Don't be the monster they think you are_. Spoken once by a liar did not make it less true. Horrified she waved her hands to stop her creations, silently commanding through the snow itself that the warriors were to slow their progress but harm no one. She ran a few steps further away, and pouring herself into the magic, raised both hands. An wall of ice rose from the ground between Elsa and the others. Tears in her eyes, she fled.

* * *

Neither she, nor the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, noticed a figure observing them at a distance, hidden in the darkness, grinning and listening.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

On the other side of the wall, two agents raced to Melanie's side. The wind had died down. The ice warriors were not attacking, but neither were they dissipating into snow with the girl's retreat. The ice golems backed up to stand at a distance from the agents, seeming to observe their movements. Melanie struggled to find footing in the snow, staring unblinkingly at the ice golem that had almost killed her. _Six attack snowmen and an eight foot wall of ice. I can't complain of a dull evening, at least._

"Agent Leall, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Cold, but fine. Check on Martinez." The snowstorm had calmed, though from the accumulation on the ground, its effects obviously remained. Brushing ice and snow from her uniform, she backed away from the ice golems, wary in spite of their withdrawal.

"Agent Leall, a moment?" The oldest of the newly arrived agents called, standing near the back of the wrecked truck.

She met him as he was walking back towards his car. "Agent Coulson, sir, I'd like to formally lodge a complaint regarding the Pegasus classification systems."

"Noted. And not important right now. I'm leaving immediately to catch a plane for New York. These," Coulson said, handing her a yellowed file folder stamped with the Project: Pegasus logo, "are what little notes were in the truck associated with Queen Elsa."

"**Queen** Elsa?!" _Frozen superhuman, I understand. Frozen superhuman royalty…?_

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Class 5 thermal energy manipulation. Twenty-one years of age if historical records are accurate; Arendelle has been under a glacier since her coronation a hundred and seventy years ago. A glacier she seems to passively sustain." Coulson motioned to the ice wall and the golems, "We weren't sure what she would be capable of consciously, but she has to be brought in. You're in charge of her capture."

Melanie blew a stray hair from her face as she skimmed the file. _Class 5… she could freeze a continent._ "Team?"

Coulson shrugged, getting into the driver's seat of the car. "You, Jackson, and Yancy. This would be higher priority, but Fury's put out a general call, Level Seven. All agents are ordered to return to hunt for the Tesseract. You're lucky there are even three of you. An ambulance is en route to pick up Martinez and Smith - Lawrence and Hourton will stay here with them until it arrives. Bring her in as soon as possible."

_A negotiator, a survivalist, and a sniper._ "I assume you want her alive?"

"Yes, although our people come first. The glacier is fascinating, and Pegasus was studying her energy output with potential applications for global temperature regulation. Distract and sedate her if you have to." The window rolling up, Coulson paused. "Wrap things up fast. The Tessaract situation could go critical quickly, and we need everyone. Bring the queen, willing or otherwise. We'll prep a room that should contain her at HQ."

The car sped off. Melanie glanced at the file in her hands, and then at the six ice golems, still standing watch at the ice wall. They seemed to be staring at her in particular. _First things first..._

"Yancy, Jackson - you two are with me." She brushed the last snow from her shoulder and met the other two halfway to the truck, closing the file. "An ambulance is en route, but we can't wait. In short, we're to bring in the girl as soon as possible, and then we're recalled like everyone else. She's powerful, but she lacks any knowledge of tech from most of the last two centuries. That may be our only advantage. First task is getting past the golems - if they aren't built for it, we may be able to outrun them in the car. Assuming the ice men don't cause problems, we can try to blow a hole in the wall, or," squinting as she looked to the edge of the wall in the distance, "we can just drive around it. A few minutes out of the way, and if we're lucky her ice guards might ignore us like they did Coulson. Agent Yancy - load up your equipment in the car and let's get moving."

Yancy, the stockier of the other two agents, nodded, transferring a large duffel to his shoulder and picking up a satchel that he had briefly set on the ground. He gestured towards the ice warriors, whose heads turned to watch their every move, "Those things creep me the hell out."

"We'll deal with them if we have to. Hop in - we need to go." Seeming to understand their plans, the ice golems began marching towards the SUV. "So much for them ignoring us. Any bright ideas?"

Yancy shrugged. "Hit the gas, toss a flash bang, and hope they mostly rely on visual stimuli?"

The car engine started. "That works. Toss it on three. I don't think they can stop us, but I don't want to find out what happens if they throw one of those ice swords at the tires."

A quick countdown and Yancy hurled a stun grenade out the window. The car started accelerating down the length of the wall and gained a bit of distance from the golems before a blinding flash of light enveloped the creatures.

"As good as we could have hoped, then?" Melanie asked, blinking spots from her eyes at the light in the car's mirrors.

Before either of the other agents could respond, they heard a heavy thump and the car jerked. One of the ice golems' shields had struck the rear of the car, leaving a long gash in the paint and a large dent from the impact.

"Shit!" Narrowly missing an ice sword flung by one of the golems, the car swerved, right into the path of a second sword flung by another. Glass from the rear windshield cascaded over Jackson and the empty passenger seat, though thankfully the ice blade missed Jackson himself. The car jostled roughly as they hit a dip in the terrain.

A glance at the mirror showed the golems using the remaining weaponry to aid in clambering up the wall. Four of the golems succeeded, two remaining on the ground having aided the others in scaling the wall. _Problem solving, target selectivity, cooperation - is she controlling them from a distance or did she make sentient constructs?_

The four atop the wall started running after the car. _They're faster than they looked._ She started to turn the car away from the wall slightly. _No point in letting them jump on the car._ Not seeing the golems in any of the mirrors, she relaxed as the distance between the wall and the car grew.

Jackson's shout was unexpected when it came. "Swerve!" Reflexively, she turned the wheel hard, watching as a large snowball flew past, glaring at them. _Wait, glaring?_

"Did one of them just throw its head at us?"

"Not just its head." A thump, and there was an icy arm hanging from the side mirror. A quick check of the mirrors showed two of the golems on the wall hurtling pieces of the other two at the SUV. _Surprisingly good aim, too. A serpentine path, then._

Random turns and adjustments of speed allowed them to dodge the remaining limbs, but the arm on the side mirror would not let go. _I'm not lowering my window to dislodge it. I know how that movie ends, and I have no desire to be strangled by a bodiless arm._

_Wait._

_This car has side mirror defrosters._

Twisting the knob to heat the mirror, Melanie let out a laugh as the hand, slick from melting ice, slid off the mirror and was left behind. _Not an advertised feature, but it works. Heated side mirrors, for when disembodied limbs of ice golems just won't let go…_

As the last of the icy hand dripped off the mirror, Melanie turned the car at an angle further away from the wall in order to avoid some rough terrain. As she did so, she noticed that the golems lessened their attacks. "We're taking a detour," she said, and turned so the car was heading away from the wall diagonally. Watching the rear-view mirror, she saw the golems slow down to a halt and then slowly dissolve into snow. _Maybe they think we're no longer a threat and dissipated? Was she controlling them this whole time?_

They reached the end of the ice wall a few minutes later and took a wide, circuitous turn around the edge of it, making sure not to stray too close to the barrier just in case the golems were able to reform. A short ridge, perhaps only ten feet high, grew up out of the desert floor and Melanie pushed the car to follow it as closely as possible, searching for signs of their missing Queen and trying to stay as inconspicuous as one could as the only SUV for miles around in the middle of the nowhere.

"Up ahead, ten o'clock. What's that?" Yancy pointed, his hand almost brushing the steering wheel. Melanie turned the vehicle towards where he was looking and saw something sparkling in the headlights.

"Well, I'll be damned," he said. "She's gone and left us a trail of frozen bread crumbs. Jackson, how close do you need to be to use one of those tranqs?"

"They're rated for up to 250 yards, but I'd prefer to be within 150 if possible since we don't know much about her or how she'll react. Or if they'll even take - what happens if her skin is ice? Needles won't pierce that."

Yancy nodded and pointed back towards the ridge. "The next time it levels out, pull atop the ridge. We'll be able to see the ice trail from there and follow it as long as she keeps running in one direction."

Melanie nodded in agreement and began to angle the car to climb the ridge. "She probably has no good reason to change direction until the terrain changes. We should be able to catch her with the tranqs from up here."

Five minutes of driving along the ridge later, the thin trail of ice had ended in what could have been mistaken for a pond in any other landscape. A small dot, which upon squinting could be seen to be a person, was still in the middle. Melanie turned the SUV's lights off and the three agents exited the car, Yancy and Jackson pulling gear out.

"Leall, there's a second figure with the target. Do we engage?"

* * *

_I cannot run forever._

Out of breath and alone, Elsa's pace slowed. The trail of ice she had left in her wake gleamed conspicuously in the moonlight, contrasted as it was against the dirt and brush. She sighed and tried to will the ice away. Failing to do so, she inhaled deeply, dry air filling her as she tried to collect her thoughts.

_Conceal, don't feel. Think. Hans lied about Anna, but everything he said came true anyway. She froze, and shattered, and then… I don't remember. How did I get here? Where is here? I… I don't think I'm dead. I don't feel dead._ She glanced down at the shard of ice in her hand. _I still have a piece of Anna to remember her by. Surely if I were dead, I would not have this with me. I should be free of my curse and reunited with Anna. Is this some purgatory, where I must earn forgiveness for the harm I did in life? For the harm I did to Anna?_

She reached up, and with a wave of her hand, fashioned a thin chain of ice to which she attached the shard, donning it as a pendant necklace.

_Surely if this were some afterlife, or even the steps towards some afterlife, I would be without my curse. Or would I? I truly do not know._

The silence was broken by a slight wind, rustling through the brush near her feet.

_But if I am still alive, then what? I'll never hear Anna's voice again. Or hear her knock on my door. Or… or…_ Another deep breath. _Don't feel._ She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around herself. _Don't feel._ The air grew colder, and she felt bits of snow on her skin. _Don't feel._

A voice, very nearby, interrupted her thoughts. "We are far from home, aren't we?"

Ice flew from her fingertips before she knew what was happening, driving spikes upwards from the ground and into the body of the newcomer, but it passed straight through him without incident. He stared at her unflinchingly, ignoring the ice.

He was clad in an ostentatious horned helm, bronze armor, and green cape, with a wide grin that did not reach his eyes. The spear in his hand was unlike any she had ever seen before, but he was not wielding it in a threatening manner.

"A queen out of time. Blood infused with the magic of Jotunheim, and beauty to match her power. You radiate magic as a beacon on this otherwise mundane and pathetic world; I knew of no mortals with access to such power."

_What? If I have run out of time, then I really am dead? And he refers to mortals as separate from himself…_ "Who are you?"

He gave a slight, somewhat mocking, bow, the grin never leaving his face. "I am Loki, of Asgard, and you wield a power not of this world. I sensed your magic when you fought the cretins who would chain you. Lesser beings, they who fear and hunt and persecute you, jealous and in awe of your magic. Those with great power have a responsibility and a duty to rule over lesser men."

His smile was unsettling, and the coldness of his eyes spoke of underlying malevolence. _Loki? As in the pagan god of old? To meet the gods, I must be dead. But then where is my sister?_ She felt herself trembling and stopped short. _Don't feel. Think. If I remember the Eddas, 'Loki is beautiful and comely to look upon, evil in spirit'… and he is the originator of deceit. If this man lies, there is the matter of how he is unaffected by the ice. If he speaks true, then he is the god of trickery and deceit, and I must be cautious._

_But I do not have the patience to be circumspect now._ "What do you want?"

It did not seem possible, but his grin widened. "My crown, a birthright which I have been denied. Failing that, dominion of this world as recompense. The worship and loyalty of every mortal being on this planet. And you're going to help me."

_Me? He wants my help?_ "Excuse me, what?"

"You are going to help me. You channel the ice of Ymir himself, with powers I have not seen since the ice giants lost the Casket of Ancient Winters. Such a thing should not be possible by a mortal such as yourself, and I find myself… curious. You are blessed with great power, and I desire to know and wield such power." His words were smooth, although many of them unfamiliar to Elsa, and she was unsure exactly what he wanted of her. _Or why I should help the master of lies._

Her reluctance must have shown, as his countenance shifted, his eyes boring into her. "You shall help me, willingly or coerced. Agree to help me of your own volition, and I will grant you whatever you wish. What is your greatest desire? Restoration of your crown? Revenge against the masses who betrayed and hunted you? Or something more… personal?"

_What is my price?_ The questions had barely been uttered before the answer, so obvious, weighed on her mind. _Anna. What would I sacrifice that she might know peace? I do not know of her ultimate fate, nor the nature of this afterlife. If this really is Loki, and the Eddas are true…_ "I would help you, on one condition. I want to speak to my sister, which may require the cooperation of your daughter. If I could talk to Anna once more, then I would consider your request." _Take care not to agree explicitly, for who knows how strictly a verbal agreement with a god might be enforced?_

His smile faltered, however briefly, and his words were slow and less honeyed. "I have not spoken with Hela in a very long time. But if that is your price, I will arrange a... reunion. You may even enjoy Niffleheim, given your abilities. Although, it will have to wait. I am not physically here," his visage flickered before her eyes, "and cannot project from a projection."

His eyes left her, and focused on something over her shoulder. "I will call on you at a later time, as I fear our conversation will end shortly. You may want to duck, or call upon your magic, as your pursuers have arrived."

"Pursuers?" She felt a small sting in the back of her neck. Reaching up, she drew a small cylinder with an elongated metal tip from the spot of the pain, looking at it curiously.

"Pursuers." He pointed at a spot a hundred fathoms or so in the distance. A glint of moonlight revealed a few of the oddly dressed individuals from before trying to hide on a small ridge. Her eyelids felt heavy. _And must my fatigue from the last few days finally catch up to me now?_

She turned back to Loki to find that the unsettling smile was back. _What sort of devil am I dealing with?_ "I'll be in touch" was the last thing she heard, watching his image fade away. The world started to spin, and the icy ground rose up to meet her.

* * *

**A/N: **As someone who often lacks the motivation to write, it is amazingly inspiring to wake up to reviews, follows, and favorites in your inbox. I'll never ask for such things (I've never liked it, as a reader, when authors beg for reviews), but I will thank everyone who did.

Further thanks to my beta, Melodi, for catching the little things I would miss (she's still Melodi, even if she hasn't used her 'Melodi' account much in the last few years).

If you have any questions, comments, or criticisms, especially on characterizations or canon (or even headcanon) as I'm presenting them, leave a review or send me a message.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The hallway was nondescript, echoing slightly every time that his shoes contacted the floor. With no window in sight, he could believe that this was any other SHIELD facility, rather than the inside of the monstrous helicarrier. He had heard oblique mentions of the SHIELD headquarters before, but he had never imagined it would be quite so massive; what little work he had done for SHIELD in the past had always been at less notable facilities.

His companion led the way, guiding him through the labyrinth of identical metal hallways deeper into the helicarrier interior. It occurred to him that there was likely a reason he had never been invited aboard the helicarrier; interpersonal work, such as his, could be just as easily done at any site.

He decided to voice his concern. "What are we doing _here_, exactly?"

"You did similar work with Rogers after he was unfrozen, Samson. You could change your title to superhuman psychiatrist and no one would object. You're the only one with the experience to deal with this."

She walked with a brisk pace, obviously in a hurry. If the other agents scurrying about was any indication, something significant was going on. _Something they aren't telling me._

"I should clarify; I understand why _I'm_ here. I was asking why I'm _here_. Why was she brought to the helicarrier? SHIELD must have at least a dozen sites that could provide adequate containment. I don't officially work for you and even I know that."

"This was the only facility…"

Samson interrupted her. "Don't, Maria. I like you and Phil better than most of the rest of the SHIELD drones, but don't try to lie to me. You know that I can tell."

"She's important, Samson, or at least, Fury thinks that she is."

"That's all I'm going to get? You flew out specifically to get me, in the middle of the night, and that's it? Maria, this doesn't add up." He gestured at a passing agent, rushing between rooms. "Judging by the state of things, you're on the verge of something catastrophic. You've brought a potentially violent and unstable superhuman on board, and rather than just lock her away, you pick me up to… to do what, exactly? Assess her mental state after being frozen for almost two centuries? To what end? What am I missing?" _Any other nascent crises are not my problem, but if it affects my job or my patient, I need to know all the details._

"A lot that I can't tell you. You read all the information in the packet?"

He nodded. "It reads like utter nonsense. Nazis and HYDRA, alien artifacts and animated snowmen, impossible glaciers and royal family trees. And gods - it says she was talking to Loki? As in the Norse myth? Did you give me a tabloid by mistake?" The last was said with a grin; after some of the things he had seen, he took everything in the files at face value.

"I can't say much beyond what's in the packet, but you touched on one of the big points: her constructs and animations. You wanted to know why Fury's so interested? Ask your patient about the snow constructs, then. Imbued consciousness or true sentience, we don't know, but either way that makes her a very valuable asset for either us or our enemies. Beyond that you'll have to draw your own conclusions, I'm afraid."

_They're worried she can raise an army with a wave of her hands. Am I here because they want to know whose side she's on, and I'm a human lie detector? Or because they want to honestly help her adapt to the twenty first century out of the goodness of their hearts? This is SHIELD, Samson, they only care about utility._

_They want to know whose side she is on, and if she'll help them with whatever looming catastrophe seems to be developing. Or at the very least, make sure she won't help their enemies. Otherwise they would not be so anxious for me to see her. Hell, outside of any pressing deadline, she should need at least a few months just to be brought up to speed on recent history and technology._

_At least the pay makes up for all of this cloak and dagger nonsense. I can work pro bono for the next year after this job._

Samson shook himself a bit to clear his thoughts. "An honest assessment of her mental state could take a very long time. Most patients don't open up until at least a few weeks have passed. And you're assuming that she'll be willing to talk to me."

Maria said nothing else as they continued on. After a minute's walk through the twisting corridors they passed through a large set of double doors, marked with medical symbology, into an area that was obviously a nurses station. "Not in a holding cell?"

Agent Hill shook her head. "Officially, she isn't a prisoner. She is in medical isolation until it can be demonstrated that she isn't a danger to anyone on board."

_Samson, have fun explaining medical isolation to someone who might not be familiar with any of the basic concepts of modern medicine. Call it miasma quarantine, maybe? They knew to quarantine people ever before germ theory, I think._ "Unofficially?"

"It was easier to rig up the required power suppression tech in one of these rooms than in one of the small holding cells."

His eyebrows rose slightly. "Power suppression? You aren't concerned with what separating her from her powers will do to her?"_ If she's had them her whole life, stripping her of her powers could crush her, and that's before telling her that everyone she's ever known is long dead._

A shrug. "We are, but it's not full separation, only moderate suppression. After Agent Leall's report, we felt it a safe assessment that she doesn't have a tremendous amount of control over her own powers. At least one of the suppression elements is under her control, or will be once she wakes up. It doesn't totally shut things off; her energy output didn't diminish by very much with the suppressors on, and everything she's sustaining seems unaffected. Her clothes, for instance."

"Her clothes are ice!?"

"A mix of finely woven ice and cloth, from what we could tell. We won't know how well the suppressors are working until she's awake. We'll tune them at that point, hopefully while you're talking with her. We have a decent variety of suppression tech and have a heavy dehumidifier running; even with that, the fibers of ice in her clothing aren't melting or sublimating."

_They really have no idea how her powers work if they're trying a dehumidifier. Assuming everything I read was correct, her powers were working fine in the desert._

"Agent Hill!" A young lab technician, by the looks of things, came sprinting over as the pair approached the last door in the hallway.

Hill turned to face the tech. "Hart, any progress?"

The tech nodded quickly, and then shook his head. "Sort of. It's like it's ice, but it's not normal ice. We haven't had time to figure much out. You can microwave it for half an hour and it won't melt. And it's brittle like ice. It breaks fine, but fuses on contact with itself, see?"

Hart held up what looked like a small icicle, snapped it into two pieces, then slowly brought the pieces back together. As they touched, the break in the ice seemed to glow, and then reformed into the same icicle. There was no visible crack or fissure in the ice where it had been broken.

Hart continued, "It's bizarre. There's nothing like it among the other samples from the site. Leall's report said that the queen was fixated on the piece and would probably want it." Hart passed the piece of ice to Hill. "If she doesn't, I'd like to run more tests."

Hart nodded to Hill and Samson before turning and hurrying back the way he came.

Samson's eyes flickered from the departing tech to the piece of ice. "He was in a rush."

"In your words, we're 'on the verge of something catastrophic,' remember?" Maria's smirk was brief. She swiped her badge and the lock audibly clicked. "This is her. The outer room has a few of the other recovered artifacts from Arendelle; I'd like to show you one of them in particular before we go in. Feel free to browse through the rest, in case any of them will help you with her. The card reader has been set to allow visitor badges since you don't have normal clearance. Door security will be changed to biometrics today or tomorrow, but we haven't had time. Please don't leave the medical wing without an escort."

"No plans to, Maria."

"So, how do you want to handle introductions?"

"The protocols I wrote when Rogers thawed won't work here. She's already seen too much to be eased into things with a staged awakening. Unless Loki told her what year it is, we have to assume she only knows what's in Leall's report." He gave a heavy sigh. "There's no good way to do this. You should break the barest of details, and then let me take over. She needs to feel in control. She may be your prisoner, but this will go better if she doesn't feel like one. You said that one of the suppressors, she could operate? I want you to shut off all the other suppression tech when I tell her that she can switch on and off the one. Here's how this needs to go..."

* * *

Awareness came gradually. The air was first; it was incredibly dry. Her throat and nose burned with each breath. Her head pounded, her tongue felt too large for her mouth, and her upper lip had cracked; running her dry tongue over the crack, she gave a small wince of pain.

Blearily opening her eyes, a soft light blue met her vision in all directions. Smooth, featureless walls lay to her left and right, with a similarly smooth ceiling, although with a single light source in the center that looked to be the strangest lamp she had ever seen. The far wall had a split that had to be a door, although she could see no handle.

Stretching a bit, she felt the bed shift beneath her. Glancing about, the bed had no posts, but a beige rail along one side with several small red circles with figures drawn onto them. Besides the bed, there was a small assortment of other furniture in the room; a table sat against the left wall with a pair of chairs on either side and a bit of what might be food atop it, and an overstuffed chair with a split in the leather on its armrest was to her right.

Raising herself onto her elbows, she pushed off the uncomfortably warm and itchy bedding. An odd weight on her forearms caused her to glance down, and she noticed strange metallic bracers on both of her arms, possibly bronze or a similar metal, covered in odd accents and accoutrements. A pair of these accents on each bracer seemed to generate their own light, a red fire that blinked slowly on and off.

Her head throbbing with the beat of some unseen drum, she slowly tried to collect her thoughts, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her with memories of recent events.

_Anna. Ice. Death._ Trembling, she forced a deep breath. _Don't feel._

_The injured man. The strangely dressed English speakers. A rocky desert and Loki and… and where am I now?_

She slid out of the bed, noting that while she still wore her ice dress, her shoes had been placed at the foot of the bed at some point. The ground was pleasantly cool to her feet. Walking over and lowering herself somewhat gingerly into one of the chairs, she stared at the selection of food. Moderate hunger forced a closer inspection, otherwise, she would have been wary of eating at all. _It's been days since I last ate a decent meal. These meat and vegetables look somewhat recognizable, even some of the other things on the table do not. And the tray is unlike any material I've ever seen - not metal, ceramic, or wood._ A glass container with water was her first target - _no, not glass; transparent as glass, though, and similar in feel to the tray_ - the water passed her dry lips and she noted its clarity. _The clearest water I've ever seen._

_Unfamiliar food. Strange materials. Meeting with gods, or a god at least. These do not help me answer the only two questions that matter: am I dead, and what is Anna's fate? Anna… Control it. Don't feel. _She idly pushed food about the plate while trying to reign in her emotions._ How would I know if I was dead or not, if I found myself in the afterlife? And what sort of deal did I strike with Loki, assuming that was Loki; if this is some sort of purgatory, was that all just a test? Treat this as a puzzle, Elsa. You used to enjoy doing puzzles in your room to pass the time._

Answers were not forthcoming as she pondered the mystery, so she made an attempt to eat. The meat was unpleasantly tough and the vegetables overcooked, but it was otherwise palatable. A few bites and any lingering hunger was displaced by curiosity. _Food itself is another clue. Would there be food in the afterlife?_

Her musings were interrupted by the door swinging open, a man and woman entering. Their faces were austere and their dress similar to the English speakers she had seen before. _Another woman in trousers…_ The pair focused on her immediately upon entering, and she set down the fork she had been using, hoping that she might finally get a few answers. The woman looked to the man; he gave a nod and she cleared her throat.

"Your highness," the woman apparently realized Elsa was royalty as Loki had, though how, she was not sure, "I am Agent Hill. My colleague is Doctor Samson." _Father sent for a doctor, when I was very young. My curse cannot be treated medically. And 'Agent' is a rather strange title. An agent of whom?_

Hill continued, her voice soft and serious. "As a matter of formality, what is appropriate style? I was unsure if 'your highness' or 'your majesty' is more appropriate."

_'Your majesty' would be more appropriate, if propriety were observed. It hardly matters, as I quite literally threw my crown away. As far as I am concerned, I have abdicated, and if not for me Anna would be… No. Don't feel._ She took another long drink of water before answering. "Just Elsa, if you please."

"Elsa, there isn't an easy way to say this so I'm going to be direct. You have been frozen for a very long time. We aren't sure how you survived, exactly; we assume your abilities are to thank for that."

_So I am alive? And_ "How long is a _very long time_, exactly?" _Was I frozen for a few months? Oh God - a few years? What transpired while I was frozen?_

"Today is the tenth of April," The woman's somber voice paused, long enough for a feeling of dread to start building in Elsa's chest, "in the year twenty twelve."

She couldn't breathe. The woman was talking, but Elsa could not hear her. _One hundred and seventy years. Everyone, everything is gone. What became of Arendelle, with Anna's death and my absence? Anna… Anna has been dead for generations. What happened? Why should I live and she die?_ Her hands were shaking, her vision blurred, and the room started to spin.

She felt arms supporting her, lifting her to her feet. At some point, she had slid out of the chair and onto the floor. They lifted her back into a chair, softer than the one she had previously sat in, her unfocused stare barely noticing when the woman left the room.

A cacophony of voices in her head shouted simultaneously, a thousand thoughts swirling in the icy pool of her mind. _My entire life is in the distant past. My parents, Anna - they would at best be historical figures in a dusty tome, at worst, forgotten with the passage of time. And I? I apparently froze myself after witnessing Anna… Anna's death. I killed my own sister, and must live to be tormented by this fact every day. To live is the true curse. Not the ice. Wait. Ice?_ Her mind was shocked from its ramblings with one startling realization; she felt tears streaming down her face. Warm, wet, unfrozen tears.

Now intently focused, her eyes scanned the floor, the walls, the furniture. There was no ice. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she stared at her hands. Focusing, she channeled her magic; the tears on her fingers chilled but did not freeze.

"Your abilities have been temporarily suppressed." The man's voice startled her; she had forgotten that he was even in the room. "They were under the assumption that you do not have complete control over your powers."

_They were right, whoever they are. But, suppressed?_ "How?" _Does it matter how? This is incredible! It could have saved…_ She felt a stab of heartache and quickly suppressed it.

Samson gestured to the bracers on her forearms. "The wristguards. They can be shut off at any time. Do you see the small switch on the side of each? Flip the switch and give it a try."

She did so, and focusing the magic, sent a small flurry of snowflakes into the air. Having never willingly demonstrated her powers so freely for a stranger, she studied his face for a reaction. Seeing only a small smile and a look of general tranquility, she relaxed, but flicked the switch to suppress her power once more. _A cage for me, for my magic. But if I hold the key, is it really a cage?_ "How is this possible?"

"I'm not sure on the specifics, but they've been studying magic like yours for many years."

"I'm sorry, who are 'they'?"

"SHIELD. An international peacekeeping organization. They brought me in to talk with you, and help you with the aftereffects of your thawing. Though you seem remarkably calm, given the circumstances."

_Practice. And Anna…. Anna was already gone. One year or a hundred might pass, and that would not change. Does anything else matter?_ A deep breath and her regal mask was in place. "I am stronger than I look, doctor."

"Samson, please. And I don't doubt your strength, but you have lost your entire life overnight; it would not be weakness to mourn."

There were a few minutes of silence as she pondered his words. _I mourned for my parents years ago. I mourn for Anna… and that is a penance I will pay every day for the rest of my life. The others? Do I mourn for the townsfolk who shunned me in fear? For the nobles that shouted and chased me out only hours after I was crowned? For those who tried to kill me in my ice palace? No. I would not wish ill of them, but with almost two centuries past, the only person for whom I mourn is Anna._

He set a familiar shard of ice on the table before her. Reaching up to where she had previously worn it, and realizing it had been missing the whole time, she snatched it off of the table. She hurriedly deactivated one of the wristguards and refashioned the necklace to suspend the piece of ice. Once it was replaced around her neck, she drew a shuddering breath.

He had observed her as she did this, not saying a word. After she finished, he drew a few sheets of paper from the beige folio that he had brought with him and passed them to her.

"I had a pair of friends put these together last night. This wasn't actually part of my assignment, but it will be helpful in bringing you up to speed on the last two centuries. It should also give you something to work on; I have found that it can help to keep the mind productive."

She glanced at the first sheet. It was remarkably well pressed for something hastily written the night before, and she commented as such.

"Ah, one more thing to add to the list then," he took one of the sheets, scribbled the word 'typewriter' at the head of the list, and added the sheet back to the stack. "There are one hundred items on each of these lists. As you're able, I'd like you to ask anyone you can about items on the lists; if someone doesn't know any details, move on and ask someone else. I would be hard pressed to adequately describe everything on these lists myself," he glanced at the first sheet, "the Franco-Prussian war, for instance. They are lists assembled detailing the changes to the world over the last one hundred and seventy years. The first two pages are the one hundred most important historical events, with something of a Eurocentric focus, the next pages are a list of one hundred important inventions, and then a current political map of the world."

Elsa blinked at the long lists before her. _Almost two centuries in the future and it's like I have tutors all over again. Anna would hate this._ A short refrain of _Don't feel_ and she started to skim the lists.

"Fill them out as you'd like. If you have any questions, I'll attempt to answer them as best as possible. For now, I'd like to talk to you about your life and your powers, if that's alright with you?"

She said nothing. Talking about historical events and inventions was one thing. Her own past, however, was not something she was comfortable discussing. She shifted in the chair but remained silent.

He seemed to notice her unease and changed directions. "Let's start with something pleasant. What can you tell me about Olaf?"

* * *

**A/N: **There were distractions, in the form of _Schnee and Ice_. There were difficulties, in particular the conversation between Samson and Elsa. And there were rewrites, as it took several passes before I was satisfied with this chapter.

Also research. This chapter I had to explore what Elsa would and wouldn't recognize of modernity. I don't want to dwell on that too much in this story, but so many things would be totally unrecognizable. Plastic is totally foreign. A hospital bed is just a bed with a weird railing and a bunch of markings. And I wanted to call Samson's notes a file folder, except from what I can tell that didn't actually exist as a word or concept until the mid-1800s, so folio is probably the most correct word from her point of view. No typed documents (the typewriter existed in her time, but was not widespread or mass produced), modern medicine (was developing, but germ theory hadn't caught on yet), etc. Not recognizing the food, though, isn't an issue of time displacement; it's just hospital food.

As with most of the details in this story, I'm trying to stay close to the movie canon when possible. This is the movie-verse Dr. Samson, so no super powers. He's just a psychiatrist.

Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed the story. The notifications in my inbox are a reminder and inspiration to keep working on the story.

Extra thanks to Melodi for beta reading, as always.


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